Henry Ward Beecher
by
Charles Henry Phelps (1853-1933) |
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HIS tongue was touched with sacred fire,
He could not
rest, he must speak out,
When Liberty lay stabbed, and
doubt
Stalked through the night in vestments dire,
When slaves uplifted manacled hands,
Praying in agony
and despair,
And answer came not anywhere,
But gloom
through all the stricken lands,
His voice for freedom
instant rang.
"For shame!" he cried; "spare thou the rod;
All men are free before their God!"
The dragon answered
with its fang.
'T is brave to face embrasured death
Hot belching from the cannon's mouth,
Yet brave it is,
for North or South,
And Truth, to face the mob's mad
breath.
So spake he then,�he and the few
Who
prized their manhood more than praise;
Their faith failed
not of better days
After the nights of bloody dew.
England's great heart misunderstood:
She looked upon
her child askance;
But heard his words and lowered her
lance,
Remembering her motherhood.
Majestic
Liberty, serene
Thou frontest on the chaste white sea!
Quench thou awhile thy torch, for he
Lies dead on whom
thou once did lean.
Thy cause was ever his,�the slave
In any fetters was his friend;
His warfare never knew an
end;
Wherever men lay bound he clave. |
By Charles Henry Phelps (1853-1933)
Listed February 24, 2013 |
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